Dear Yao
by igirisexual
Summary: Wang Yao is just your average guy, who wears a pink dressing gown and cute furry slippers when he goes to check the mail. One day, he starts to receive daily parcels, their contents ranging from chocolate to a speckled goldfish. All as acts of love. He doesn't quite understand who is sending them. His mailman just says it's a secret admirer. RoChu. Human AU.


"Could you sign here?"

Yao blinked drowsily, glancing between his cup of morning tea, and the tall, blond mailman who stood at the door. "What? I didn't order anything," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyelids that begged for sleep. "It's like seven, and it's Sunday. There shouldn't be any post today," he murmured, slumping against the doorframe. He was awoken shortly, by the mailman snapping his thin fingers in Yao's face. It seemed he'd fallen asleep and started to snore, right then and there.

"It's got your name on it," the mailman said, pointing to the little part of the form that indeed read 'Wang Yao'. "Could you sign here?" he smiled sweetly, offering a pen. "It may be a gift from a secret admirer."

"Ooh, really?" yawned Yao, lazily taking the pen and scrawling his signature half-assedly. "'Kay, thanks," he sighed, taking the box from the mailman's arms and carrying it inside.

Grunting, he put it on the table, and opened the box. Inside was a small collection of plants, little sprouts coming up from contained clods of dirt. Well, this was odd. Surely, this wouldn't have been allowed to come through the mail. _Security these days_, Yao thought, complete with a 'tsk tsk'. He lifted up the plants, simply observing them and trying not to get dirt on his dressing gown. There was a little tag on the box, a label that read 'peony'. _My favourite_, he scoffed as he thought. After setting them up by the window in a planter box, he went about and made himself breakfast.

* * *

"Excuse me, sir?" the mailman said, awkwardly tapping Yao's shoulder. Yao snorted back to attention, attractively scratching his back and staring blearily at the mailman.

"What," Yao deadpanned, yawning again, even though he'd just woken up.

"You'd.. You fell asleep on me," the mailman coughed. "Could you sign here? Oh, a-and, erm, you're still leaning against me." Yao jumped and stumbled backward, pouting.

"Sorry," he murmured, rubbing his arm. "Had a long night at work last night. I slept for like ten minutes."

"Your mysterious admirer's got something new for you," the mailman mused quietly, holding the tall rectangular box out to Yao. "But you'll need to sign." He prompted the pen to Yao again.

"Oh, right," he sighed, taking the pen and scrawling his signature as he had yesterday. "Thanks," he smiled faintly, before taking the box and heading back inside.

Huffing, he placed the parcel down on the table, and opened it from the top. When he did so, he revealed a fresh bouquet of flowers, and a box of chocolates. Confused and endeared, Yao popped a chocolate into his mouth and went about to get ready for work.

* * *

For the next month or so, Yao received a gift each morning. Never was there a note to indicate who it was from, or why, but Yao didn't mind. I mean hey, he got chocolate a lot of the time. Who would complain about that? Gifts ranged in value and size, from little trinkets and key chains to a pot plant that was taller than Yao himself. Yao found each and every one of them quite sweet. As the days went on, he found himself growing more and more curious as to the origin of these gifts, and found himself waking even earlier than normal to run down and wait for the mailman. When he _finally _arrived, Yao would smile brightly, run up to him, sign for the gift, and then hurry inside to open it.

As this month dragged on, Yao found things growing ever gloomier for him at work, and he was caught off-guard by a massive pay cut. He had complained, but was threatened that he'd be fired if he protested it. He was 'lucky to still have his job at all'. After that terribly melancholy day, Yao wearily came home, and didn't even go inside. Instead, he sat on a stone in his garden, and waited for the mailman to bring his little dose of happiness the next morning.

Yao waited, staying awake only by staring up at the sky and counting the stars until they all faded away into dawn. He waited and waited, going inside now and then to check the time. The mailman never came that day, and Yao couldn't help but wonder why. The gifts didn't come, either.

The mailman didn't show for the next few days. Yao was notably more gloomy than usual, only trudging outside to either go to work, or check his mailbox. On the third day without a gift, he finally received something, a small red envelope. He brought it inside to read. There was no return address, nothing indicating who it was from. There wasn't even a stamp.

'_Dear Yao,_

_Sorry about the stopped supply of presents. I have been fired, you see. I spend the majority of my time idling and thinking of what to get you next, and not actually working. I suppose my employer's view was fair. Do you know how hard it is to think of a different gift for every day? That is why I spend so much time on it. Plus, peonies were hard to get this season. I actually packaged them just before handing them over, would you believe? I felt it my duty to give you something fresh._

_This may sound a little odd, and in fact, I'm very surprised that the whole gift-giving affair didn't spook you, but I quite like you. I only intend well, I promise. Your signature is nice, by the way. Flouncy. When you become a celebrity, I will have all these signatures already. But I wouldn't dare sell them. The money couldn't match up to the happiness I feel when I see your smile._

_Okay, that was pretty gay._

_Your faithful (former) mailman,_

_Ivan Braginsky._'

Beneath the writing was the man's signature itself, with its curls and cute hearts. After reading, Yao tensed up and put the letter down, feeling his heart get stuck in his throat. He coughed and went to fold the letter up, but paused when he saw something on the back.

'_Post-script:_

_If you're reading this letter right now, right here, it means that I'm probably in your yard. You'd better check, because it's looking rather rainy today._'

Gulping, Yao tiptoed to the door, slowly opening it and looking up at the mailman-.. looking up at Ivan, who stood there with a faint smile, and his paperboy cap held in front of him. "I hope I didn't frighten you," Ivan laughed faintly, leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Erm,"

"So you're the secret admirer," said Yao, huffing and staring away. How hadn't he bloody realised this? "How sneaky of you."

"Hiding in plain sight," Ivan smiled a little, tapping the side of his nose.

"Come inside," puffed Yao, very red-faced. "The least I can do for getting you fired is at least make you some tea and get to know you better."

Ivan nodded, and teetered inside, seeming to be extremely happy. "I'd ask you to sign, but you've already got your name on my heart," he chuckled, hiding his mouth behind one hand. Yao was rendered speechless, but charged almost angrily to his kitchen, making an aggressive cup of tea for each of them.

"W-whatever! Don't be so open like that," he grunted quietly. "Come on, you dumb mailman. Tell me about yourself."

* * *

**the end ;w;**

**im in a slump with my writing /3**


End file.
